


Hounds of Love

by kloppinthekop



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Just sayin', Liverpool F.C., M/M, Slightly OOC I guess?, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, hendollana, potential broccoli soul-mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kloppinthekop/pseuds/kloppinthekop
Summary: Jordan's not sure what his soulmark will be yet, but what he does know is that he's terrified.A slow-burn, "soulmates" fic about Hendollana.





	Hounds of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I listen to a lot of Kate Bush, so it was only a matter of time before I ended up writing a Kate Bush-inspired fic. Title is from her song of the same name. (This isn't really a songfic per se? Definitely influenced but hopefully not overtaken by the lyrics of the song.)
> 
> The fic kind of lives in a slipstream-ish universe, what with the soulmate stuff and all, but also in the sense that I’ve conveniently left out some SOs while leaving in others. What can I say? Slipstream.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** These are fictional representations and this fic is not intended to reflect on/be shared with the real people whose names I borrow for my own imagination's sake, ¿sí? For example, even though Hendo is no Einstein, he is probably not as dumb as this fic makes him out to be. Probably.  
> 

Jordan Henderson had been a fairly happy child growing up, playing football at every moment possible and benefitting from the warmth of his excellent, but very normal, family. His favorite film as a kid was The Fox and the Hound because it was his sister’s favorite film, and his little sis was one of his favorite people in the world. (She’s at uni now, and he misses her something fierce.)

He wasn’t the brightest in school, but that was okay because he went to sports college and no one ever thought he was going to be the next Einstein or anything like that. Sometimes he got frustrated when other boys got more attention from scouts than he did, but everything worked out in the end, didn’t it?

He’d been a bit of a cheeky lad, could curse a blue streak like no one else. (Okay… he still does this, but like, he’s matured in other ways?) He was champion of keepy-uppy amongst his friends, and later with the lads at youth academy. He was captain of Liverpool by his mid-twenties, which was no small feat by itself but was made even more special by the fact that he was following in the footsteps of Steven Gerrard (a hero for sure).

One thing he definitely wasn’t great at, however, was love.

❧

He even gets a little uncomfortable just thinking about the l-word, the great big mystery of the world. Everyone seems to want it, seems to cry when they’ve lost it, and it’s a word that’s been bandied about quite a lot over the course of history.

Thing is, and it sucks for Jordan that this is the case (but it is): our world is kind of obsessed with love. And our world has manifested this obsession in physical form.

And okay, so the real reason Jordan’s not great at love is because deep down, he’s really just a big softie. A great big hopeless romantic. But he’s also a bit of a coward when it comes to all that (and Northern lads are supposed to be hardmen, aren’t they? And damnit he’s fuckin’ proud to be a Northerner), so it should be no surprise that the single thing that scares him most in life, the thing that he most dreads—even more than a season-ending injury, which while horrible only lasts a season, right?—is getting his soulmark.

There have been many stories told about soulmates, and not all of them are true. And really, it’s a little different for everyone. (There are regional differences, just like accents; did you know that? In most of England, they tend to look like tattoos. He’s heard strange tales from China though of little green seedlings sprouting out the top of one’s head… but he’s sure that’s got to be just legend, right?) For some, they get the words they first hear upon meeting their soulmate on their body, appearing like a spontaneous and cosmic tattoo. (Jordan’s not quite sure how the science works on that, but again, he’s no Einstein.)

  
For others, it’s a shift in their perception: suddenly they see vibrant color in their surroundings, or suddenly they can hear their lover’s thoughts, or suddenly they feel the emotions of their destined partner, their fated love, their most significant of significant others.

Jordan’s not sure what his soulmark will be yet, but what he does know is that he’s terrified.

What if he gets his soulmark when he’s driving, and the sudden appearance of it (whatever form it may take) startles him? What if he’s swimming, during a recovery session, and poof! The mark appears, and he drowns? (Okay, there are trainers and lifeguards for that, but it would still be mortifying enough to make him wish he were dead.) What if it was (and here he shudders at the thought)… a face tattoo?

Or worse, Jordan thinks: what if he gets his soulmark, and he doesn’t even notice it?

And the worst possible fortune… what if he never gets one at all?

❧

Jordan thinks his cynicism about love might well have stemmed from his favorite childhood film, especially since it reminds him about how the girl he hung out with most as a young lad (instead of taking girls to the cinema or something like that, like other boys) was his sister. And like, his one true love was football, and he would sacrifice all the dates and parties in the world, a million times over, to have gotten here—doing what he loves best on the highest level—but still…

For the longest time, he did things on his own, or with his sister. Even when he had felt at his worst, when it felt like rock bottom, he turned to no one. Didn’t really register this as a loss until much later in life.

Girls weren’t that important anyway.

❧

Perhaps it should have dawned on Jordan a lot earlier that he was attracted to boys too, but well, again we must be reminded that Jordan was no Einstein. (Perhaps Einstein is the wrong reference here. Alan Turing? Jordan had recently seen a film about World War II codebreaking and all that. It was a fascinating, if tragic, tale about the man behind the machine, though Jordan has to admit he was more caught up in the emotions of the characters than the actual science, which he definitely still doesn’t understand.)

Jordan’s life isn’t tragic or anything, but he’s also not quite “proud” of his sexuality. Not ashamed of it either, just not… not quite sure what to do with it all, just yet, if he’s being honest.

(And he is being honest now. This is not something he talks about openly, but it’s not something he lies about either.)

He shaved his arm hair off last week and feels like that’s the extent of “coming out” that he’s ready for at the moment.

❧

When he first meets Adam Lallana, it’s not like a blaze of fire running through his veins, or a burst of sunlight warming his soul. It’s all very normal, looking back: so normal, in fact, that Jordan doesn’t think to be terrified. (If he had known, he probably would’ve run away from the man in fright.)

But they end up being good mates, and Jordan thinks it’s really nice to finally have someone to talk to on a normal basis; to have someone, period. They frequently go on outings together, and Jordan is comforted by the fact that Adam doesn’t ever expect him to be anyone other than who he is. (The media have been particularly scathing these past few months, which Jordan understands is par for the course given that he’s taking over from Captain Fantastic, but… It’s nice having someone on his side. Who doesn’t care that he’s not Einstein, and that he’s not Gerrard. Just wants him to be Jordan Henderson, a mouthy Northern lad, who cares about his hair only just slightly less than he cares about his team.)

Adam is his best friend, and Jordan doesn’t think much more about their relationship for the first few years of hanging out and playing together.

Until one day, he does.

❧

Soulmarks aren’t always consistent. Sure, there were experts across the world who claimed to know the rhyme and reason behind it all, but in reality it seemed that their knowledge was no more solid than fortune-telling or horoscopes, both of which Jordan didn’t put much stock into.

Sometimes a mark would appear when two lovers first spoke. Other times, it just took a single glance, which didn’t even have to be in person; he’d heard of a case where a bloke had seen his soulmate on the telly and consequently thought that the bartender in front of the pub’s screen was “the one.” He was not. (He was not gay either, which led to quite the misunderstanding. Jordan hoped that his would not be a similarly embarrassing case.)

He’d heard that Klopp’s was a stopwatch on his inner forearm that counted down to the exact second he would meet his wife, which was very specific and oh-so-German in its exactitude, but also quite nerve-wracking if you asked Jordan, thank you very much.

Sometimes, a person could have more than one soulmate. (Xabi Alonso was a good example of this phenomenon. He had _two_ soulmarks: one for Nagore, and one for Stevie.)

Other times, soulmarks could be tricky to interpret. Dejan’s wife had a lilypad on her wrist which he thought perfectly matched the lotus flower on his ankle… and perhaps it did, but Mo had a lotus in the exact same spot on his foot. Dejan and his wife loved each other, but not like Dejan and Mo _loved_ each other. (Perhaps he was in a similar boat as Alonso thought; Jordan just hadn’t really gotten around to asking Dejan. He didn’t think they were quite at that stage of friendship where such personal questions were okay.)

With all this, it was almost as if soulmarks weren’t really a guarantee at all. Things were still ambiguous sometimes, and there was room for error. And Jordan really hated being wrong, hated the idea of making a mistake, especially when it came to such important matters as love.

So while most people in the world waited with baited breath for their marks to appear, chattering on about soulmates at every moment and in every corner of God’s green earth, Jordan did not.

❧

Adam had no such compunctions though, and once they had become properly good friends, Jordan found himself thinking about and listening to theories about soulmarks more than ever before in his life.

Only Adam could’ve gotten Jordan to talk so much about soulmates and the like, and in retrospect, this should have been some sort of sign. But neither of them spoke about soulmarks in relation to one another, other than wondering who would get theirs first, and whose would be the weirdest.

(For some reason, Adam thought his might be a broccoli, which Jordan thought was ridiculous and inexplicably adorable. Apparently the floreted green vegetable came into conversation with an alarming frequency, to the point that Jordan can’t remember why. Adam certainly never complained when broccoli was on the menu at Melwood, so it couldn’t be a strange aversion… The whole notion was just strange, but the mental image of a small anthropomorphic broccoli head on Adam’s body sometimes made Jordan smile out of the blue.)

They’ve talked about soulmates while watching movies, on Adam’s large widescreen television or Jordan’s smaller set. Jordan has made him watch The Fox and the Hound with him, catching Adam’s indulgent smile grow soft as he tells him about the many times his sister pushed and prodded him to watch the film with her, though he truthfully only put up a half-hearted fight every time. They’ll watch the animated duo together, wondering if there really is such thing as platonic soulmates. (Jordan wonders if this is what they are, but something just doesn’t quite sit right. Platonic seems like a posh word, after all.)

Jordan doesn’t cry at the ending anymore, but there’s always a quiet delicate moment, and Adam is good about sitting in that silence with him. He thinks that Adam gets it, gets it more than anyone else he’s ever known. It’s moments like these that Jordan is reminded of how lucky he is to have Adam at his side. He has his family, he has Liverpool, and he has Adam.

Really, Jordan thinks: this is all a man could ever need.

❧

Jordan has worried sometimes though; worried that once Adam found his soulmate, his best friend would start to abandon him (and who would talk to him about broccoli then?). Because Adam was clearly the better of the two of them at matters of love, he would clearly be the first to find his partner, and Jordan didn’t know what he would do if he lost him. When he lost him. He could already tell that the moment they started hanging out less, that ‘special something’ between them—that unnamed thing—would likely disintegrate.

The thought always contributed to a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, so Jordan tried to do what he typically does: stuff that thought into a deep dark place and avoid thinking about it.

And for the most part, Jordan was indeed able to not think about such dim speculative futures. Adam’s comfortable cheerful mien—and that’s not a word Jordan would normally know the definition to, but Chambo had used it the other day and, at Hendo’s blank stare, had explained it to him then and there—usually did wonders for any dark moods Jordan would sink into.

Jordan knew that, objectively, this was all a good thing. Getting close with his teammates was crucial to the success of the team, this was teambuilding. But it also wasn’t, because Jordan definitely didn’t stare at his other teammates like he did at Adz. (Longingly.) Definitely didn’t think about his other teammates having delicate wrists and wanting to trace the veins there. (Gently.) Definitely didn’t….

As Jordan was pondering this, he felt a strange sensation, like a tingle, spread across a small spot on his hip. It’s not the place where he’d been collided into at practice earlier today, so it must be some other mysterious ailment.

He was sitting alone in his living room, so without sense of shame or foreboding he lifted the hem of his shirt, only to drop it quickly. And then lift it again.

There, sitting at the curve of his hipbone, was a small animal. As Jordan examined it, he caught a wisp of an idea in his mind, and, obeying that whim, reached down with trembling fingers to touch the new lines that had appeared. And as he did, orange hues spread over half of the image, and Jordan gasped.

It’s not so much the shift in color that surprises Jordan, but the accompanying feeling he gets. It’s nothing he’s felt before. It’s indescribable, it’s more than an emotion… Something shifts in his _soul_.

And try as he might, he can’t ignore the reason for his new feeling of wholeness.

Adam _._

“Fuck,” Jordan thinks.

_Adam._

❧

Jordan spends most of the next day’s practice session avoiding Adam’s presence. He does so again on match day (when possible).

Adam looks put upon, glances at his friend—oh god, _soulmate_ , Jordan’s mind corrects—with puppy-dog eyes. Trent is confused as to why his squad parents are not talking to each other. Klopp is furious, and tells Hendo to fix whatever it is that’s crawled up his ass that day.

They’ve finished warm-up, and head back through the tunnel toward the team room. The spikes of their cleats echo ominously on the walk there, and it seems like no one is saying anything. Either everyone has caught onto the strange atmosphere, or Jordan’s brain is just shutting everyone out. As he usually does. (Or rather, did, before Adam.)

Jordan feels like Klopp’s still glaring daggers at him, so he pulls Adam aside, making sure that the boss sees him doing so. Satisfied that Klopp is satisfied (for the time being), he focuses his attention on Adam, who has his arms crossed.

“Look, Adz. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting the past coupla days.” And Jordan’s been skittish around Adam since the mark appeared, but in this moment, he looks him in the eyes earnestly. “I’ve been a dick, and I’m sorry.”

Adam, who Jordan decides in this moment is a much braver man than he will ever be, pats Jordan on the shoulder and tells him, “Just don’t pull that ever again, okay?”

Jordan nods, and Adam gives him a tentative grin.

“Well, at least that’s over with,” Jordan thinks. “I can deal with this.” Smiles back, and Adam’s grin grows genuine.

_But I’m never fuckin’ tellin’ him about the mark._

❧

Jordan dreams of Adam that night. His mind hardly ever populates his dreams with real people, but there Adam is, smiling at him from across a table. They’re holding hands, and it’s all very normal. So normal, that it doesn’t seem like a dream—just seems like an ordinary day, that Jordan is remembering. (Perhaps he’s remembering it from the future. There’s a weird logic to soulmate perception, and it’s not outside the realm of possibility, though the chances of Jordan being clairvoyant are rather slim. He doesn’t even read horoscopes.)

This is the only concrete image that Jordan can recall upon waking. It’s a calming scene of domesticity, but it makes him nervous.

It wasn’t a sex dream, or anything one could call passionate. It was quite removed from the types of dreams he used to have, as a teenage boy.

This didn’t mean that he didn’t find Adam appealing—far from it, in fact—but the fact that his dream was so innocent?

Jordan was no Einstein, but he knew what that meant.

It meant that this was truly and utterly—and unfortunately—real love.

And yeah, like, that’s what the soulmark means, you dumb piece of lard, Jordan thinks. But he didn’t have a habit of staring at his hip for extended periods of time, or any other part of body for that matter (okay, maybe with the exception of his hair), so the soulmark could ostensibly have passed into the back of his mind, hidden away. Jordan could continue to ignore and quash any thoughts about the l-word, and go about his usual day, unperturbed. He could ignore it, just like he’s ignored every unrequited crush, even though this was definitely a different situation from the rest. But he could try. (He was really good at powering through difficult situations.)

If Adam was going to insist upon being in his dreams though, as well as in waking moments—then there really was no escape.

Running was what he did best—he was modest, but was also objectively one of the best at chasing down opponents on the field—but this changed things. Jordan was gonna have to acknowledge this, instead of running away from it.

Not today though, right? he thinks. I don’t have to deal with it today. Not yet.

Because it’s not like anything’s changed for Adam, Jordan thinks. Right?

He can’t have noticed, especially after the apology. That was a good job, that (and Jordan conveniently forgets that he was essentially strong-armed into apologizing because of Klopp, not his own management of the situation). It’s bought him a little more time.

A little more time to be afraid. A little more time to delay the inevitable, unbearable, moment of rejection. He thinks that he is very much a coward when it comes to love, but at least he knows it.

He sighs, and grabs his car keys. Another morning at Melwood. Another morning of being secretly, hopelessly in love.

❧

As it happens, they are at practice when Adam notices. It’s been about a week since Jordan’s first dream about Adam, and every night since then it’s been something similar: something innocent and domestic, his unconscious mind feeding him unhelpful images of blissful companionship.

Jordan’s contemplating the latest dream—eating dessert, which he vaguely remembers looking like a peach tart Adam’s made in the past, with a shared spoon; knees bumping up against each others’ under the dining room table ( _their_ dining room table)—when it happens.

“What’s that on your hip there? Have you gotten a new tattoo?” Jordan pulls away from him, but not quickly enough to avoid Adam’s outstretched hands and insistent gaze. Lost in thought, Jordan had been absent-mindedly rubbing at the spot near his hip, and his shirt had ridden up to reveal the lower edges of his soulmark.

Adam looks hurt. “You could’ve told me, you know.” Picks at a blade of grass, trying to hide his woundedness. “Is this why you were acting so strange weeks back?” Jordan nods feebly. “I know you’re not exactly the most open when it comes to personal stuff, but I thought…”

“I’m _really_ not good at this, Adz,” and when Jordan swallows, it feels like his heart has risen to replace the saliva in his mouth, which feels dry all of a sudden. “I wanted to tell you” (lie) “but I just didn’t know how” (semi-truth). Jordan isn’t looking at Adam this time. “I was afraid of what you might say.” (Truth.)

“Do you really think I would have teased you for this?” Adam asks. When Jordan doesn’t answer, Adam sighs. “Is it bad then? It’s not a face tattoo at least.” Jordan tries to crack a smile but it ends up looking more like a grimace, sharp-toothed and fake. Adam inches closer, and Jordan lets him. There’s barely any grass separating them now, the space between them close to non-existent, and Jordan can feel the warmth of Adam radiating off of his body.

“Can I…”

Jordan takes in deep breath, gathering up the courage to answer Adam’s inevitable question, ready to grant him any request in retribution for his recent cowardice. He looks up at Adam when he hears a corresponding intake of air. The soulmark is still out in the open, staring up boldly at Adam.

“Can I…”

And at that very moment, the whistle blows.

Practice is over, and the world rushes into noise and bustle around them once more, as their teammates trundle off the field in pairs and small packs.

Mo is whispering to Dejan about something, long red sleeve wrapped around a hand that in turn curves around Dejan’s ear. It must be something funny, because Dejan laughs, and his eyes sparkle in the way that they only do around Mo.

Trent is making a face at Robbo, whose hands gesticulate wildly.

Klopp slings an arm around Matip, congratulating him for a good pass in training.

This all seems to happen around Adam and Jordan, who are simultaneously part of the world and yet separated by a veil of something that exists just for the two of them in that instance.

The moment passes, and they walk wordlessly to the changing rooms.

❧

Adam drives the two of them home in relative silence. Jordan wants to say something—no, feels compelled to say something, to break the stillness—but waits for Adam to speak first. (He supposes this has always been his problem.)

They pull into Jordan’s driveway, and suddenly the prospect of entering through the doorway alone, eating dinner alone, going to bed—alone, alone, alone—seems miserable, when before it had been just the normal operation of things. Jordan shifts in the passenger seat to face Adam.

“Before training ended. You… you were asking me something.” Jordan anxiously swipes a hand across the surface of his hair.

It’s Adam’s turn to look down. “I…”  
  
Jordan suddenly realizes that he has no idea what is running through Adam’s head. Wants to know, desperately.

And it seems that this need overrides his usual inhibitions, as he reaches out to touch Adam’s wrist. Turns it over, thumbing at the pulse point, the river of veins running there. Meets Adam’s eyes as they shoot up to look at his own face.

With his other hand, the one not currently cradled in Jordan’s touch, he reaches out for the place where Jordan’s shirt has bunched up. “Can I see it? Fully?”

Jordan nods, and scoots his body closer to allow Adam better access. His hand bumps up against the car console on its journey to Jordan’s hip, and Adam laughs. The sound is unusually loud in the hushed silence that has built up around them, but the reverent quiet returns as soon as Jordan feels fingers land on bare skin, having pushed fabric up and out of the way.

Adam cracks a smile, looking at Jordan again. “It’s not bad at all,” he says, in a tone that is not mocking, but reassuring. And it’s almost like something about the mark has reassured Adam, but Jordan’s not quite sure why yet.

As Adam’s fingers explore that spot at his hip, his fingers have lingered at the skin surrounding the mark, but hasn’t touched it directly yet. Jordan feels himself holding his breath, waiting for them to move just a millimeter up and--

And suddenly, Adam’s index finger brushes up against the bottom line of the animal, and in a slow rush, the other half of the soulmark—which had remained black and white until then—suddenly suffuses with color.

This is an unexpected turn of events. Bloody hell. Jordan definitely can’t hide the truth anymore.

So he bolts out of the car and strides across the lawn, as quickly as his cowardly feet will take him.

❧

He can hear footsteps rushing after him, and it feels like his lungs are pounding their way out of his chest. It feels like there’s thunder in his heart. He feels like he might pass out from the adrenaline. He feels like…

His awkward knees give way, and suddenly he feels his body hit the grass. Adam has caught up to him, and Jordan struggles to get up, to get to the safety of his doorway, which he’ll happily enter alone now. Once behind the door, he can close his eyes and pretend this embarrassing moment, this embarrassing life, never happened.

But the world conspires against him (the world takes offense to this, as it is only trying to help Jordan), and Adam is now at his side. They are close to one another on the lawn, almost a direct parallel to the beginning of their conversation in practice that day.

Jordan thinks to make another go for the house, and Adam has to pin Jordan down on the ground to get him to stay still long enough. Having had to use all his strength to accomplish this, he’s left out of breath—panting—as he reveals his own soulmark to Jordan, who is now stretched out below him.

“Seriously, Jordan?” Jordan huffs, trying to catch his breath, avoiding Adam’s gaze, trying to avoid his body altogether. “Trust me on this, okay?” Adam’s voice grows soft, almost tender. “Just trust me, okay?” And Jordan, who can try but ultimately cannot deny him anything, slumps back in assent.

Satisfied that Jordan is now staying put, Adam shifts his weight onto one forearm, giving Jordan’s eyes access to his latest tattoo. At first, Jordan is confused; he’s already noticed this new addition, has mentioned it in passing during practice and has even made fun of Adam for being such a cliché. “Not the ink, you berk,” Adam says. Urges him to look closer, and so he does. Notices a spot of color amongst the swirling black curves on Adam’s right side.

Adam sits up, and Jordan draws close…

Astonishment washes over him. Right there, in the center of a tribal whorl, is a tiny little hound, with cartoonishly-large, floppy ears. Half of the dog is black and white, just like his was before the incident in the car.

He doesn’t know quite what to say, to convey to Adam the rush of emotions he feels at this peculiar sight. This long-awaited sight. This life-changing, earth-shattering, soul-resurrecting sight.

So he says something stupid instead.

“But… you don’t even like dogs that much,” and immediately regrets opening his mouth. “I mean… what does it mean to you, the mark?”

Adam looks pensive. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, does it?” After a beat. His breath hitches, and Jordan waits for him to finish the thought.

But fuck it. Jordan’s tired of waiting now. He doesn’t have the energy for theatrics, so it’s with a tiny shift of his arm that he brings a hand to the lines on Adam’s skin, the small spot of color amongst a sea of black ink on ivory skin.

The small spot of color grows, stretches to fill out all the space between outlines, and Jordan feels like he can breathe properly again. He gazes at the image—an image of their love—before his face cracks into a smile, as bright as the moon above.

Adam smiles too. “I guess it means I love you.”

Jordan blinks, and Adam reaches out to trace his soulmark as Jordan is still touching his. Lightning doesn’t strike, no angelic choir starts singing. There is no flash of color this time, the marks having already done their job. He just feels the tips of Adam’s fingers, cold from the evening air, tracing over the lines on his hip.

It feels normal, and he isn’t scared. Jordan thinks: I guess that’s alright, yeah.

Thinks: I love you too.

❧

Later still, he and Adam will bike through the German forest just to get to a pristine and moonlit lake, where they take off their shoes and run into the dark waters where days before they had swum with the rest of the squad. It’s been nearly a year since they first saw each others’ marks, and confessed their feelings for one another. It feels like almost no time has passed though, with love cocooning them in an infinite moment of trust and companionship, surrounding just the two of them in cosmic embrace, like the lake does now.

It’s cold as fuck, but Jordan doesn’t have to worry about drowning; instead, with droplets that reflect starlight illuminating the curve of Adam’s flank where rests a small mastiff hound, he feels like… like he could walk on water. And even though his favorite childhood film doesn’t exactly have a happy ending, the little fox on his hip gives him a sense of comfort. Makes him think, this’ll be okay.

“Here I go,” he thinks, and dives underwater to grab Adam’s ankle, playfully.

Here we go.

**Author's Note:**

> _I found a fox_   
>  _Caught by dogs_   
>  _He let me take him in my hands_
> 
> _His little heart_   
>  _It beats so fast_   
>  _And I’m ashamed of running away_
> 
> _From nothing real_   
>  _I just can't deal with this_   
>  _But I'm still afraid to be there_
> 
> _Among your hounds of love_   
>  _And feel your arms surround me_   
>  _I've always been a coward_   
>  _And never know what's good for me_
> 
> _Oh here I go..._
> 
>  
> 
> \---
> 
> This fic was heavily inspired by Kate Bush’s album and song, _[Hounds of Love](https://youtu.be/zhD5Gs4A1GM?t=5m)_. It was also inspired by [people wearing plants on their head in mainland China](https://www.allure.com/story/china-hair-trend-sprout-plant), this [Isco/James Rodriguez soulmates fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748759) by iiscos, inexplicably by _[The Fox and the Hound](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fox_and_the_Hound) _ (which I've only seen once, and a long time ago at that), and finally, this [photo from Jordan Henderson’s Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/zN4YxYIehl/?hl=en) of him and his sis (bc idk, I'm an only child who always wanted an older brother and this photo of them two is just so sweet that it makes me smile).
> 
> I'm thinking of maybe making this into a series of soulmates/soulmark-related fics inspired by songs. Might have multiple/different pairings or even gen-fic. (I've been wanting to write about platonic soulmates for awhile, would maybe take a stab at that...) What do you think?
> 
> Comments and kudos and such are appreciated! <3 You can also say hi at my tumblr here: <http://dr-azumi-fujita.tumblr.com> (formerly adleriarty)


End file.
